


The Window

by AurigaVenatici (p_3a)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/AurigaVenatici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a visit to Stormwind, Wrathion adds some extra interest to Anduin's morning routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Window

**Author's Note:**

> Wrathion is a trans man. Anduin is a cis man.

Mornings were always Anduin’s favourite.

 

The gentle sunrays piercing the windows in his simple room, falling on the dusty bookshelves and the portrait of his mother, were part of why. The end of the nightmares, too - and, recently, something else. Between his arms, the Black Prince Wrathion shifted in his deep sleep, tutting contentedly and sighing.

Anduin sat up a little, arm still draped over Wrathion’s shoulder, and watched him sleeping. His breath was still for seconds at a time, then drew in quickly, then out again - and then still. It didn’t worry Anduin; it seemed to be normal for the dragon. His face was tranquil and for once, entirely blank; no smarmy grin or incredulous snarl plastered across it, and as much as Anduin found entertainment in Wrathion’s exaggerated facial expressions, it was… well. Soothing, to see him so relaxed.

He raised a gentle hand and stroked Wrathion’s cheek. His fingers slid easily over it; its slightly scaled texture made ridges and bumps under his touch. He wondered if that was something Wrathion chose, like his eyes, or something he couldn’t help, like his. Well.

Speaking of which… Anduin let himself fall back onto the pillow as Wrathion shifted his position a little under the covers, accidentally - or subconsciously - rubbing himself back against Anduin in just the right ways. Oh, Light… Anduin snuggled close and Wrathion continued to shuffle, apparently trying to roll onto his front but prevented from doing so by Anduin’s hug.

It was only /after/ Anduin was quite hard indeed that Wrathion saw fit to make plain that he’d been awake the entire time. It was when Anduin dared to try and shift so that he wasn’t poking into Wrathion /quite/ so much that the dragon let out the lewdest moan and - “ohh, Anduin Wrynn!” - loud enough that Anduin feared the entire castle could hear.

"Wrathion!" The Prince of Stormwind hissed at his companion, face flushed red with embarassment.  
“Mmm,” grinned Wrathion lazily, still not opening his eyes as he continued to grind back against Anduin. “What’s the matter, my Prince? Was my appreciation not loud enough for you?”  
“Stop that,” tried Anduin, but it came out a little too high pitched for Wrathion to take seriously.

The dragon twisted and placed his hands on Anduin’s shoulders, alacritious grin on his face as he initiated their usual morning tussle. Anduin had to admit he didn’t mind it all that much - making the bed was a pain afterwards, sure, but… well. Wrathion grasped him around the middle and practically threw him down onto the bed so he was on his back, and Anduin retaliated with an elbow to Wrathion’s gut and a hand on his neck to regain the upper hand. It always made Wrathion laugh when Anduin used dirty tactics like that, and Anduin loved the sound.

Eventually, though, it was Wrathion who came out the victor - the previous morning, it had been Anduin. He ended with his Prince pinned to the bed - one hand delicately poised over his throat, thumb pinned to his adam’s apple. Anduin swallowed against his grip, panting and grinning.

His mouth was quickly crushed under Wrathion’s in a passionately clumsy kiss, the dragon’s bifuricated tongue quickly finding its way between his lips thereafter. Anduin yielded under him, admitting defeat for now; he was biding his time, he told himself, but he couldn’t help the way his pulse quickened as he found his wrists grasped still and his waist held down by Wrathion’s weight.

Wrathion, of course, noticed, and wasn’t going to let Anduin get away with thinking he hadn’t. “You don’t seem to have much fight in you, sweetheart,” he sang. “It’s almost like you enjoy being my prize.”  
“Maybe I do,” retorted Anduin, though yet again he couldn’t help the pitch or tone of his voice. “Now, how are you going to torment me, today?”  
“Oh, I think I have an idea…” He kept Anduin’s one wrist pinned as his other hand came up to tap at his goatee. “Yes. Yes… that will do nicely. Anduin Wrynn,” he addressed formally as he sat up off the older prince to stand off the bed, “you are to undress.”

Anduin didn’t question that part. It was the next order: “Now get up,” that made his face fall into incredulity.  
“Whatever for?”  
But Wrathion gave him that /look/ he had. It was a mixture of contempt and pleading, something that would look truly odd on anyone’s face but his. Its meaning: “Did I give you permission to speak?”

Anduin understood his place, then, and did as he was told.

He felt vulnerable standing there without even his nightshirt on. But when Wrathion’s too-warm hands closed around his hips and his hot voice ghosted against his ear, he felt safe, and swallowed his fear to do as he was told: “Close your eyes, my dear, and walk with me.” He trusted Wrathion. He knew he’d never put him in danger.

He felt Wrathion’s wooden length brush up against him a few times as they moved across the room, swallowing his gasps each time. Wrathion brought them to a gentle stop - Anduin had no idea where in the room they were - and then sensually slid his hands up Anduin’s arms to grasp his wrists again, this time guiding them up to Anduin’s head height, and setting them against the cold stone wall. Oh, he was going to push his face into the… oh, this was going to be quite wonderful.

"Now open them," purred Wrathion.

Anduin did so - and barely swallowed his desperate gasp as he realised where they were. There were several windows in his room - some high and vaulted, and some low, barely reaching chest height. And it was against one of these windows, the top thankfully low enough to hide the Princes’ faces, that Wrathion had Anduin pressed.

Anduin found himself letting out an incoherent wail, and Wrathion snickered delightedly against his neck as he kissed there. “What’s the matter, my dear? Is it too much for you? Why, there’s not even many people on the street yet…”  
“W-Wrathion! Oh Light!” He couldn’t manage anything else. Just— what if someone /saw/ him, and— he felt Wrathion grind forwards against him and he gasped, loudly. Oh, Light, he was utterly /helpless/, and he /loved/ it.

Wrathion /grinned/. This was working out delightfully. He reached over, leaving one hand on Anduin’s hip as his fingertips grasped for the phial he’d left on the edge of Anduin’s plain dresser. He grabbed Anduin’s hip roughly with his other hand and pushed on the small of his back with his closed fist, to give himself better access to where he wanted to be; Anduin rolled his head back let his mouth fall open, holding the position obediently.

Wrathion licked his lips as he uncorked the lubrication, letting the oily substance trail off his fingers onto his dearest Prince. He revelled in the way Anduin’s breaths drew short as he worked his fingers against his entrance, but grew frustrated when he noticed Anduin was keeping his eyes closed. His one hand still touching at Anduin’s ring, he reached his other up to grasp Anduin’s hair tightly and pull, sharp.

"My dear," he cooed, "it’s rather disappointing to put /all/ this effort in only for you to avert your eyes from the situation I concoted for you! Be a good man and keep them open, would you?" He nips his prince’s back sharply, flicking his tongue over the pock-marked skin there. "Or I’ll do this with rather less consideration."

Anduin just nodded mutely. He wanted to please Wrathion, oh Light - he knew Wrathion was pleasing /him/ delightfully with the way his slicked fingers and sharpened teeth were sliding over his exposed flesh in such different ways. And with— the thought that anyone could look up from below at /any moment/ and see just how hard the Prince of Stormwind was without even knowing it was /him/ made him shudder with wonder every time he remembered it.

Anduin was well past the point of coherence by the time Wrathion finally pressed himself against his Prince’s entrance. He wanted to beg and plead, but all that came out was a needy moan. He cast his eyes down and he swore, for half a second, that he saw a young man dressed in paladin attire glance up at their window. Wrathion chose that moment to slide himself inside, and Anduin nearly thought that would be the end of him.

It wasn’t. Not quite. He bit his lip and just barely managed to hold on before Wrathion grasped his wrists again, pinning them against the hard masonry. The dragon prince drew back just a little, before giving up on holding himself back and starting to - for lack of a better word - fuck Anduin Wrynn.

Wrathion always managed to be so /intense/, and absolutely relentless, once he got into his rhythm. Anduin registered his own release only a few thrusts in, yelping Wrathion’s name helplessly and blushing redder than he thought possible when he looked down and saw his own cum spattered on the window - but Wrathion didn’t stop, grunting and panting against Anduin’s back push after push. Anduin found himself once again moaning with his lover, pushing back against him determinedly until he heard Wrathion snarl his name and felt his grip tighten so much as that he thought the dragon was going to break his wrists.

The younger prince withdrew from his lover and kissed at him gently, turning him to see his face and cup it in both hands. He was always so overcome with concern afterwards - it really wasn’t necessary, Anduin thought, but he appreciated it all the same.  
“I’m fine,” he mumbled as Wrathion took both of his hands and lead him back to bed. His head was still spinning. What if someone had seen? What if the /paladin/ had seen?  
“I’ll say,” Wrathion smoothed as he guided Anduin to lay back down on the bed, curling himself about him with one arm and leg hooked over him both like he was his treasure hoard. “You’re already hard again.”

Anduin blushed. It was true, but… “…also tired,” he commented, holding a hand up. “It’s the weekend. What say we take another nap and then see where round two of our scuffle takes us?” He managed a tired grin.

Wrathion considered, then conceded, resting his head back on Anduin’s shoulder where it belonged.


End file.
